


she doesn't remember the sound of an unmarred heart

by tigerlo



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Vanity Fest 2018, but inevitably they come together in another time instead, in which we peel well away from canon, vanityfest, where vanessa and charity didn't kiss in 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17123273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlo/pseuds/tigerlo
Summary: She’s not at all sure why she’s following Charity-bloody-Dingle down to the cellar of the Woolpack on Christmas Eve, not when she’s got a pub full of people that know her better than Vanessa does.And yet here she is, still putting one foot in front of the other as she ducks behind the bar after the whirlwind of blonde hair and black blouse.(Written for VanityFest 2018. A little Christmas 'what if fic' where they don't get locked in the cellar after Finn's funeral, but opportunity strikes the year later)





	she doesn't remember the sound of an unmarred heart

**Author's Note:**

> This assumes there was no kiss after Finn's wake and no interaction that following year between the two of them because of that. It also assumes that none of the Bails stuff happened either, because I don't really fancy thinking about Charity having to go through that without Vanessa at her side for support.
> 
> This was written in a bit of a flurry to actually contribute something to vanityfest for Christmas and is probably riddled with errors and canon plot holes because of the timeline change, so I apologise for the quality if it's lacking, but come suspend disbelief with me anyway....

-

 

She’s not at all sure why she’s following Charity-bloody-Dingle down to the cellar of the Woolpack on Christmas Eve, not when she’s got a pub full of people that know her better than Vanessa does. 

 

And yet here she is, still putting one foot in front of the other as she ducks behind the bar after the whirlwind of blonde hair and black blouse. 

 

Except that she does know why she‘s doing what she’s doing, Vanessa reminds herself, because not one of the tens of people Charity can actually trace a bloodline to had even batted an eyelid when she had walked off before. None of them had even looked her way. 

 

Vanessa grimaces as she pushes the door at the top of the stairs open further, knocking something heavy away with her foot and cursing the throb of pain that echoes in her big toe, before she calls down the stairs cautiously. 

 

She’s heard of Christmas making people mad, silly season and all that nonsense, but even that doesn’t sufficiently explain why Vanessa had slid off her chair, away from her perfectly good and cold pint, to follow someone who’s probably going to bite her head off at the neck the second she announces herself, instead of pushing Chas or Marlon or Victoria or someone Charity actually knows down here, instead. 

 

Although Vanessa thinks she knows the answer to that, too. 

 

Because Charity had looked properly spooked when the bloke Vanessa hadn’t recognised, a drunk passer-through, had grabbed Charity’s wrist to get her attention as she tried to serve ten people down the other of the bar, craning her neck to listen for the orders through the noise. Because she’d jumped a foot in the air at the unexpected contact before she’d thrown him off sharply, her eyes blazing when he’d demanded a drink with far too much arrogance for Vanessa’s liking, with something more than simple annoyance at being pulled too tightly in too many directions. 

 

Vanessa’s seen the look that had crossed Charity’s eyes with such a swift fleetingness that Vanessa had almost missed it herself, but not in people, in the eyes of rescued dogs that flinch before they last out and bite in fear. 

 

She doesn’t know any great detail of Charity’s past, only what Megan and her father have told her in passing, but she knows there’s a probable linkage between that and Charity’s reaction to being grabbed by a heavy hand without warning. Not that any of that is her business though, which incidentally is almost exactly what she’s expecting Charity to yell or growl the second Vanessa gives away her presence. 

 

“Charity?” she calls from the top of the stairs, her hand pressed to the cold wall as she hovers over the first step. 

 

“Yes, I’m coming, alright,” Charity hisses impatiently, the sound bouncing off the walls up to Vanessa. “Keep your pants on, Chas. I’ll be there in a minute. Allowed to have a bloody break, aren’t I? What’s the point in owning half this flamin’ pub if I can’t sit down for five seconds.”

 

“It’s not Chas,” Vanessa says carefully, making her way down the last few steps until the cellar opens up to her, revealing Charity sitting on a barrel on the other side of the room, “it’s Vanessa.”

 

“Vanessa, who?” Charity snaps before she lifts her head and catches sight of Vanessa waiting cautiously at the bottom of the flight of stairs. “Oh, right,” she says flatly, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you want?”

 

“Are you alright?” Vanessa asks in an even tone, not too sympathetic or soft, lest that fire Charity up more.

 

“Yeah,” Charity frowns, straightening her back as she sits up and curls her hands over the lip of the barrel she’s sitting on. “Why?” she asks dryly, “worried I won’t come up and pour you a drink?”

 

“I don’t care about my drink,” Vanessa says as she fights the exasperation warming her cheeks. “He grabbed you pretty hard before you threw him off, and it didn’t look like anyone else noticed,” Vanessa says in the same neutral voice as before. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

 

“Is this a joke?” Charity asks suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at Vanessa. She crosses her arms over her chest as she speaks, and the movement shifts the forearm of her jacket up just enough to reveal a flash of red skin, shaped suspiciously like a handprint. 

 

“It’s not a joke,” Vanessa sighs in reply. “Not everyone in this village has an ulterior motive, you know.”

 

“Be news to me, that would,” Charity snarks, rolling her eyes, “you’d be about the first person who didn’t. That includes my kids, an’all.”

 

“Yeah, well I don’t want a thing, alright?” Vanessa returns, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms to mirror Charity’s body language. “Just don’t like men who think they have free scope to grab anyone they want, that’s all.”

 

“Yeah, well that makes two of us,” Charity says quietly under her breath, but Vanessa  _ just _ catches it. “What is this, then? You playing knight in white armour?” Charity smirks, looking Vanessa up and down, “or in black, as it were.” 

 

Her eyes linger over Vanessa’s body for longer than she’s expecting them too, and for a second they’re not derisive or sarcastic, instead Vanessa could swear they almost look…interested. 

 

She can’t blame Charity for looking in all honestly, it’s hard not to be drawn to something, with the black blouse Vanessa picked out as a little Christmas Eve treat to doll herself up and make her feel slightly less pathetic about spending another Christmas alone, the one that reveals a significant amount of cleavage and bare skin. 

 

Charity’s gaze lingers for an almost inappropriate length of time though, just enough for Vanessa to blush and drop her hands to her sides, planting them on her hips in an attempt to prompt Charity into looking away. 

 

It’s not that Vanessa isn’t slightly flattered, she’s just not completely certain how to take the attention. She’s heard Paddy and Rhona mention the infamous  _ Zoe Tate _ enough over the years though, and she’s seen the way Charity’s eye turns towards anyone attractive that walks through the door of the pub, not only men, so she thinks there’s something genuine about the way she’s looking at Vanessa like she’s a little bit edible. Maybe. 

 

“Can I at least have a look at it for you?” Vanessa offers when it’s clear that Charity’s waiting for her to kick-start the conversation. 

 

“It’s fine, Vanessa,” Charity says dismissively, rolling her eyes again. “Had far worse than this before, and I’m sure I will again.”

 

“Charity,” Vanessa begins, pushing off the wall and taking a step into the room, not getting far before Charity holds her hand up to stop both her speech and movement. 

 

“Don’t even think about startin’ a pity-party, alright,” Charity warns as she slides off the barrel and turns to look for something on one of the shelves behind her, her back to Vanessa. “Don’t need some bollocks sentiment from one of your lot that’s never lived a hard day in their lives, yeah. I’ll be just fine without it.”

 

“You don’t know anything about me,” Vanessa says crossly as she takes a step towards Charity. “Have we ever actually had a conversation that wasn’t across that bar upstairs?” 

 

“Suppose I don’t,” Charity grumbles begrudgingly as she turns to face Vanessa again, setting a hard look on her face before she continues, “but I know you’re not like me.”

 

“Yeah, good thing, that,” Vanessa smirks, trying to turn on her heel and steer the conversation in a different direction, wary of the sharpness in Charity’s eyes, “don’t know that the village would survive that. Having two of you about, I mean.”

 

Charity smiles wryly like she knows exactly what it is that Vanessa’s doing, and to Vanessa’s surprise she allows the change in subject without a fight. “Too much of a good thing, eh?” Charity offers with a wink, and Vanessa can’t help but laugh. 

 

She watches as Charity takes a few steps over to an old, worn but comfortable-looking arm chair. She leans down to pick up the pillow to shift it to the side, but the extension of her arm makes her wince and hiss lightly before she can cover it. She flops down into the chair in a huff with her next breath, staring hard at Vanessa as she rolls her eyes across the room and stomps over to where Charity’s now sitting with a tight frown across her forehead. 

 

“I’m fine,” Charity says in a warningly low tone but Vanessa ignores her, crouching down next to the chair a reasonable distance away. “Don’t you-“

 

“Just let me look at it, would you?” Vanessa says impatiently, “it’ll save you a trip to the doctor if nothing else.”

 

“A doctor?” Charity laughs in disbelief, “babe, I haven’t been to one of them in years. No thanks, yeah? Like I said before, for the tenth bloody time, I’ll be fine.”

 

“Charity,” Vanessa sighs, her shoulders curling, “you need to know that nothing's broken.”

 

“And what if it is?” Charity asks with a glare, shifting towards Vanessa, leaning over her knees. “Not going to get bugger all done with a cast on, am I? Grin and bear it has alright before.”

 

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Vanessa says briskly, like she might talk to a petulant child, “give me your arm, Charity.”

 

“Or what?” Charity asks with a suddenly keen curiosity, looking at Vanessa with a new-found interest. “You’ll stand over me?” Charity asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking with glee. “You’ll  _ make _ me?”

 

“No,” Vanessa replies sternly, “but I might sit on you if it means you’ll give over and let me help you. Works on big animals, doesn’t it, sure it’ll work on you.”

 

“And what’s the inference here, then?” Charity bristles slightly, her grin falling away. “That must make me a-“

 

“Stubborn cow,” Vanessa says without hesitating, smiling wryly at Charity as she holds her eye. She thinks it works though, her forward approach, because Charity’s shoulders soften like she’s a few seconds away from giving in. 

 

“If I let you have a look, will you drop the aggressive nurse act?” Charity asks tersely, her mouth drawn into a thin, still slightly suspicious line. 

 

“Promise,” Vanessa replies, allowing a small smile to curl the corner of her upper lip. “Not another word.”

 

“Alright, fine then,” Charity huffs, holding her arm out in the air between them expectantly. “Wait,” she says, snatching it back just as Vanessa begins to shuffle forward so she can reach for it, “you’re a bloody vet,” Charity says with a decent bite of snark, “ how are you going to know whether a human arm is broken?”

 

“God, are you always this suspicious?” Vanessa says, frowning as she falls onto her heels on the floor at the foot of Charity’s chair. “Actually, don’t answer that,” Vanessa adds, “I’m not sure I want to know if it’s just me you don’t trust.” She rolls forward so she’s up kneeling before she leans back on her haunches and tries to fix Charity with as genuine a look as possible. “It sounds like bollocks, but a lot of the physiology is the same, yeah?” Vanessa tries to explain, “very different bodies, but a broken bone is still a broken bone, and sometimes there are easy ways to tell, especially in humans who can tell you where something hurts.”

 

It takes Charity a few minutes, staring intensely at Vanessa like it’s some sort of test, to see if her resolve wavers enough to just leave Charity alone, but Vanessa doesn’t move, she doesn’t say a word, and eventually Charity cracks. “Oh, go on then, Dr Dolittle,” Charity says dramatically, rolling her eyes and holding her arm out to Vanessa again. “But if I find out you’re having me on, you’ll be barred for a year.” 

 

“Deal,” Vanessa replies, smiling at she flicks her head to throw her hair out of her eyes so she can have a proper look at Charity’s injury. “Actually,” Vanessa says when she tries to pull the sleeve of Charity’s blazer up and it only goes an inch or so before stopping, “can you take that off for a second?”

 

She sees Charity’s eyes narrow in suspicion but she allows Vanessa to help her out of the jacket, Vanessa holding the sleeve carefully while Charity pulls her arm from it. She’s wearing a long sleeved black blouse under the jacket, but she shivers slightly without the weight of the extra layer so Vanessa throws it over Charity’s shoulders when she's done removing it, adjusting the lapels so it sits snugly. 

 

Charity doesn’t comment on the small show of empathy but something changes in her expression, like she’s trying to make sense of Vanessa’s actions. She doesn’t say anything, instead silently allows Vanessa to release the button at the cuff of her blouse and roll the slippery fabric up carefully to give her an unobscured view of the injury. 

 

“Christ, how hard did he grab you?” Vanessa says in horror as the deep red bruise reveals itself. She runs her fingers along the edge of the raising mark, testing the sensitivity, making a mental note that Charity twitches as soon as she gets close to it. 

 

“Don’t know their own strength when they’re pissed, do they?” Charity shrugs carelessly, a blank expression on her face when Vanessa looks up, like she’s a million miles away. 

 

“Don’t make excuses for them,” Vanessa says tersely, not looking up from her work again lest it make Charity uncomfortable. 

 

She moves into an off autopilot as she checks Charity over, the same one she uses when she has an animal in her charge. She turns the arm to and fro as much as she can, before she puts the pads of her fingers under Charity’s so they’re almost palm to palm, pushing each one up slowly to gauge the range of movement.  

 

“Why not?” Charity replies dryly to Vanessa’s last statement. “Everyone else expects me to, because it was never anyone bloody else’s fault, was it?” 

 

She sighs deeply enough that Vanessa has to stop what she’s doing to allow Charity’s shoulder and arm to move with the expansion of her chest. She chances a quick look to Charity’s face, her eyes glowing angrily now, not only blank, before she looks back down to Charity’s arm to save being caught staring. 

 

The lack of interruption seems to encourage Charity on, and she continues without prompting. “It was always mine,” Charity says wryly. “My fault, eh? The teenage delinquent.” There’s a deep ache in Charity’s voice now, and Vanessa doesn’t dare interrupt. “ _ It was my fault officer _ ,” Charity continues sarcastically. “I looked young enough for him to push around, I looked weak enough that I wouldn’t fight back. It was my fault he hated me enough to kill himself and frame me for it.”

 

It shocks Vanessa enough to stun her into silence for a moment, Charity’s sudden admission, her unexpected openness, and it takes Vanessa a few slow breaths to pull herself together adequately to realise that she needs to say something in reply. 

 

“Charity,” Vanessa says carefully, because she doesn’t know what else to say, in the same slow patient voice that she uses for a nervous animal in her care. 

 

“Bloody hell,” Charity curses, pulling her arm roughly out of Vanessa’s grip, more to herself than Vanessa. “See what happens when someone offers me a bit of pity?” she says balefully, “I turn into a pathetic nutjob who can’t keep her gob shut.”

 

“It’s not pity,” Vanessa says firmly, pressing her hands down into her thighs, curling her hands so her nails bite into the denim of her jeans. “It’s not, I promise.”

 

“No?” Charity questions with a sharpness in her eyes that brings the brick wall that Vanessa’s so used to seeing in front of her, halfway up again, “what is it then?”

 

“I don’t know,” Vanessa says honestly, shrugging and berating herself for not having a better response, “but it’s not pity, Charity. Kindness, maybe, but not that.”

 

“No such thing as kindness, babe,” Charity laughs, the derision in her voice sharp against Vanessa’s ears. “Only intent, and the length people will go to get what they want.”

 

“Not-“ Vanessa starts but she cuts herself off to give her mind a few seconds to try and think. “Look, you have no reason to believe me or listen,” she says evenly, trying desperately to control her frustration, “but not everyone wants something.”

 

“You one of them unicorns then, are you, Vanessa?” Charity asks sharply, crossing her arms over her chest and wincing when she knocks the bruise.

 

“I don’t know what I am, but I know it’s not my place to judge anything you’ve ever done without knowing everything about you,” Vanessa answers neutrally, holding the intensity of Charity’s gaze, not backing down. “Environment and upbringing are powerful, aren’t they? Nobody’s the way they are without cause.”

 

“Is this some kind of Mother Teresa trip you’re on?” Charity asks sharply with a raised eyebrow, but there’s slightly less anger in her voice than before. “Oh, no,” she says dramatically, “not joined that born-again crowd, have you?”

 

“Yes, because I’m sure they’d be thrilled to admit one single mother with a child out of wedlock to a teenager,” Vanessa laughs cynically, looking over Charity’s shoulder as she speaks. 

 

“Well, take all-sorts, don’t they?” Charity shrugs, “tried to get me at one point when I was on the-“ She cuts herself off. “Very nearly went actually,” she continues without elaborating, “free meal and warm bed sounded like heaven. Would have, if I didn’t know the priest was a regular with one of the other girls. Probably just as well I didn’t, knowing what else went on there, eh?”

 

“I had no idea it was so bad for you,” Vanessa says quietly, tensing her jaw to stop the burning in her throat threatening to overwhelm her. 

 

“Nobody does, do they?” Charity huffs cynically, leaning back into the chair. “Nobody bothers to ask. They’re all happy to make their assumptions and judge me without knowing the truth about a thing.”

 

“I’m sorry, Charity,” Vanessa says with a grimace, furious at the injustice of this whole situation. Not only for Charity, but because she knows that Charity is telling the truth, and she knows that if she were to try and defend her and relay this whole conversation to anyone, that there’s probably not a soul in the village who would believe her. “Look, this isn’t pity, alright,” Vanessa offers with gritted teeth, “it’s not that, it’s just… well it’s shit, isn’t it? That nobody gives a damn, that people are like they are.”

 

“S’the way of the world, isn’t it, though,” Charity replies emotionlessly. “Guilty until proven innocent unless you’re a rich, white bloke.”

 

“It’s just not fair,” Vanessa grumbles under her breath. “I know there’s a lot that isn’t, alright, but this is staring me in the face, so I’ll exert my right to complain about this for now.”

 

Charity watches her when she finishes, searching Vanessa’s face for something: untruth, she supposes, a reason for the show of softness, for the empathy. She must be pleased on some level with what she finds, or the lack thereof, because she shuffles forward in the chair again, not quite as close as before but near enough that Vanessa can smell the musk of her perfume without straining towards it. 

 

“I do trust you, you know,” Charity admits, crossing her arms again carefully and puffing out her chest. “You’ve never had a go, have you?” Charity says, answering Vanessa’s unasked question. “Not really, anyway. Not as much as you probably deserved to for me getting involved with Frank. You’re different too, I mean, you get mardy when I don’t pull your pint quick enough, but you’re still never a right cow like some of the others are. You don’t look at me like I owe you something like everyone else here does.” She sighs heavily before falling into the back of the chair. “You’re not as bad as some of the rest of them, is what I’m saying.”

 

“That’s a rather educated observation, Ms Dingle,” Vanessa says, trying to suppress a smile. “Almost a compliment, perhaps?” 

 

“Yeah, well, not just pretty face, am I?” Charity preens before her face sharpens. “But if you tell anyone about that, I’ll have to kill you and bury you behind the pub. You know that, right?”

 

“Tell you what,” Vanessa says with a smirk, pleased with her own sudden brainwave. “Let me have another quick look at your arm, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

 

Charity frowns at her neatly balanced argument, glaring for a moment before sighing dramatically and holding out her arm for Vanessa one last time. 

 

“Fine,” Charity says begrudgingly, scowling as Vanessa shuffles forward to take her arm gently in her hands again. “But I’m not joking about the six-feet-under-threat either, alright?” 

 

“I know you’re not,” Vanessa replies with a laugh. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

 

“They’d better be,” Charity grumps as she watches Vanessa at work. “What is it you’re looking for, anyway?”

 

“Damage to any normal range of movement that’s not just due to a sprain,” Vanessa answers distractedly as she turns Charity’s hand over in her palm, closing her own hand around it, curling Charity’s fingers into a fist. 

 

She flinches at the last moment, just before her fingers curl right in and she makes a full fist, and Vanessa freezes instantly, unfurling them slowly before placing Charity’s hand back in her lap. She doesn’t move her hands away though, not just yet, holding Charity’s forearm gently like she’s preparing for some kind of examination explanation. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa says with a wince, tracing her thumb tenderly over the unmarred skin alongside the bruise. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

 

“It’s alright,” Charity replies in a voice that’s rougher than Vanessa’s expecting. “I mean, it’s a bit tender, but I didn’t mean to jump, it’s not that bad. Not so used to the soft touch, eh?”

 

“Yeah, well if anyone else sees fit to apply anything other than a soft one without your say-so, you send them my way, alright,” Vanessa says without censoring herself. She knows it’s not her place, and Charity doesn’t have to believe her beyond how far she could throw her, but it’s important to her that she says it regardless. 

 

“I might do that an’all,” Charity laughs. “Love to see you tear out the underbelly of a bloke that wouldn’t think you a threat for a second.” She looks appraisingly st Vanessa for a moment before she smiles broadly. “Got a bit of bite to you, eh?” Charity says more than asks, sounding highly impressed. “Where’s that been hiding?” 

 

“Suppose you’ve never riled me up enough to see it,” Vanessa replies, trying to push back against the blush on her cheeks, still holding Charity’s hand, before she looks up. “I think it’s just a sprain,” she says finally, trying to retain some sense of decorum and professionalism, and not give away how quickly her heart is beating under the silk of Charity’s gaze. 

 

“Right, and what does that mean then, Doctor Woodfield?” Charity says with a touch of sarcasm. “No vigorous use of the hand for a few days?”

 

“Just be gentle with it,” Vanessa replies dryly, ignoring Charity’s blatant innuendo. “Take some anti-inflammatories for a day or so, and if it’s still hurting like it is today in a week, you need to go and see a doctor.”

 

“What,” Charity asks with a frown. “I can’t come back to you if it’s not alright?” 

 

“I'm not really a human doctor, remember?” Vanessa says, unable to stop the smile at Charity’s grossly offended expression. “If you want me to X-ray you on the table we use for the animals, then of course you can.”

 

“Better that than having to go see an actual quack,” Charity grumbles. “Make the place all nice for me, will you?”

 

“If you pour me a good pint afterwards, I suppose I can,” Vanessa grins as Charity’s face lights in amusement, “can put a nice comfy blanket down and all, just like we do to please the posh owners.” It takes Vanessa back some, how easy this is, the verbal back and forth, when Charity’s not trying to defend herself. 

 

“Deal,” Charity replies with a wink. The smile on her lips crawls all the way up to meet her eyes, but it drops suddenly, and her head snaps towards the staircase. “Wait,” she says carefully, “why can’t I hear the noise of the pub anymore?”

 

“I don’t know,” Vanessa replies, placing Charity’s hand in her lap carefully before she stands up on aching legs to look towards the stairs too, “that thing I kicked before on my way down must’ve shifted, and the door’s closed shut.”

 

“Babe,” Charity says with a loud whine, “that  _ thing _ is there because the lock’s broken. The door doesn’t work from this side.”

 

“Oh,” Vanessa replies, her cheeks darkening at her apparent stupidity. “That’s alright though, isn’t it?” she says hopefully. “Chas will come looking for you soon, won’t she. Problem solved?”

 

“Yeah, or she’ll take the busy pub and punters on the chin for a bit of a break from me,” Charity sighs, dropping back into the chair fully. “Here’s me just about to think you were cleverer than I had given you credit for.”

 

“ Excuse me,” Vanessa says sharply, crossing her arms over her chest again as she scowls. “How was I supposed to know your pub infrastructure is bloody faulty. Not my fault you’ve got a dodgy door.”

 

“I’m kidding, babe,” Ch arity replies with a grin, smirking at Vanessa’s reaction. “There’s that bite though, eh?”

 

“Give over,” Vanessa grumbles. She doesn’t mean to, but she can’t help but laugh, especially at how easy that had been for Charity to draw to the surface. “Well,” she says with a resigned sigh, “what are we going to do until someone comes and looks for us then?”

 

“You know,” Charity breathes in that voice that Vanessa’s heard a handful of times in the pub, when Charity really wants something. The one that makes her toes tingle. “I have an idea. A good one too, because it doubles as something to keep your mouth shut.”

 

“Is it murder?” Vanessa says dryly, “because I reckon I can scream over that racket upstairs no problem.”

 

“No, no.” Charity shakes her head. “Something we might both enjoy, actually,” she winks, sliding forward in her seat again. 

 

Vanessa can feel the whisper of her breath over her wet lips when Charity exhales deeply. “Oh?” Vanessa asks quietly, scarcely daring to breathe, because there’s no way that Charity’s going to do what she thinks she’s about to do, even though her hands are shaking with wanting it, even though she didn’t know that she  _ did _ want it before tonight. “What’s that?” Vanessa asks, swallowing heavily. 

 

“Should I show you?” Charity offers, her voice like honey as she leans forward, her eyes seductively soft as they meet Vanessa’s. 

 

Her hands wrap into the front of Vanessa’s jacket as soon as she nods her assent, pulling Vanessa to her so her knees hit the cool concrete and she bows in front of Charity, still seated. Vanessa can feel the warmth of Charity’s knuckles pressing into her chest, just above her breastbone. It’s grounding as her head spins wildly. It makes her heart beat louder in an attempt to meet them. 

 

“Watch your arm,” Vanessa manages to say with more stability in her voice than she feels she should have, and her hands might be shaking with the unfamiliar boldness, but it garners exactly the reaction she wants. 

 

Charity smirks broadly, her hands tightening in the fabric of Vanessa’s clothing, and Vanessa feels the flash of white of her teeth  _ spark _ down her body when she does so, settling between her thighs. 

 

“No,” is all Charity says before she tugs Vanessa forward. 

 

Their lips meet with an impact that would be bruising if Vanessa weren’t already watching Charity with rapt attention. It steals her breath still, even though they meet on a perfectly imperfect angle, Vanessa’s heart stopping in her chest until Charity presses firmer against her, the heat of her warm in the cold cellar, Vanessa’s body finally dissolving into action at the prolonged contact. 

 

Charity’s hands move from her jacket one at a time to clutch the back of her neck, pulling Vanessa to her as her mouth slants against Vanessa’s and the kiss deepens, her tongue grazing along the line of Vanessa’s lower lip. She parts them with a sigh, her own hands reaching for Charity’s shoulders, pulling Charity down as Charity pulls her up, moaning softly when Charity’s tongue slides against her own. 

 

It’s electric, the sensation of having Charity so close, the taste of her, a faint hint of the lemon water Vanessa knows she drinks when she’s working. It floods her senses completely, and Vanessa feels the rest of the room fade to a dull blur around them. 

 

“Get up on this chair, will you,” Charity growls when she breaks away with a heavy sigh, her hands squeezing the muscles across Vanessa’s shoulders firmly in encouragement. 

 

“But,” Vanessa stammers groggily, throwing a glance behind her, “what if-“

 

“I don’t care if a full stampede of elephants comes down that staircase, babe,” Charity says, her eyes glowing and her cheeks pink. “Do you?”

 

It’s almost overwhelming, the rush of  _ whatthehellareyoudoingVanessa _ that screams through her mind with a challengingly loud voice, but Charity’s hands are keen on her shoulders and her lips are wet and her eyes are black and that’s  _ her _ doing, no one else’s. 

 

She can’t say this is a long time coming, because it wasn’t, or that she knows what on earth is going to happen when they leave this room, because she doesn’t know that either, but tonight, with a slight buzz of alcohol and the confidence instilled by Charity’s clear interest in her, Vanessa finds that she doesn’t actually care. 

 

“No,” Vanessa replies with a shake of her head, pushing up through the heel of her right foot and crawling into Charity’s lap, her knees on the outside of Charity’s thighs. “I really, really don’t.”

  
  


-

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://tigerlo.tumblr.com), more vanity mini fics that aren't here, etc etc.
> 
> And Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays too! x


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